


Gamma

by greygerbil



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Threesome Is Endgame, Triad relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-16 23:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20610785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: As Brasidas recovers from the injuries he sustained at Amphipolis and tries to come to terms with the reality that he will not fight anymore, his friends Alexios and Stentor try to help him as best they can. However, it's not long before Brasidas, who still nurses old crushes on both of them, is drawn much deeper into their relationship than he expected.





	Gamma

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [greygerbil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil) in the [iibb2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/iibb2019) collection. 

> Fulfilled Claim for Iddy Iddy Bang Bang
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> Alexios/Brasidas/Stentor
> 
> After Brasidas is wounded in a battle, he can't be on active military duty any longer. Alexios and Stentor cheer him up. Lots of threesome porn, hurt/comfort, and eventual triad relationship.

“Why do you Spartans have these? It must be to keep you leashed.”

Stentor growled as Alexios tugged his braid and Brasidas smiled at the lack of force behind the motion as he smacked Alexios’ wrist. He’d known Stentor since he was a half-grown man at the _agoge_, sixteen or seventeen, all gangly limbs and stringy muscle powered by a fiery determination to prove himself to anyone who laid eyes on him, and had seen him grow into a respected general who now had men wishing to gain his approval in turn. In all this time, he’d never seemed quite so comfortable around anyone as he had been those last ten minutes since Alexios had walked through the door. Considering that Alexios had told Brasidas that once upon a time Stentor had opened a conversation between them by punching him in the face, they had come far. As Brasidas saw Alexios pull Stentor’s head back to put him in place for a kiss, the way Stentor’s mouth opened for him and his frown eased told him that the flares of old hostility were only play now.

He gave them a moment before he cleared his throat. They separated quickly, looking like guilty boys. Brasidas could not help but grin.

“I just wanted to fetch some water, don’t let me stop you.”

Quickly, Stentor stepped back from Alexios and grabbed the bucket, where only a few drops were still sloshing at the ground.

“I’ll go to the well,” he said.

“I can-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Brasidas found himself vaguely unhappy as he watched Stentor’s hasty retreat. He knew right now he was probably escaping for embarrassment, but he’d been here every day for weeks now, always making sure that Brasidas had enough to drink and eat and didn’t have to lift a thing heavier than the fat stray cat who liked to sit in the open doorway to Brasidas’ bedroom. It was worse to know that he was probably justified in doing so. The muscles in Brasidas’ shoulder, neck, and arm were still healing. He already knew he would never be strong enough to properly wield shield and spear again, though. That was, of course, what made it so hard to accept help – he did not wish to accept _anything_ about this situation.

With an effort, Brasidas pulled himself out of his thoughts and smiled at Alexios.

“It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to be back,” Alexios said with a nod.

“I noticed.” Brasidas raised an eyebrow at him. “I have to hear about your new lover from Stentor?”

“I was going to tell you!” Alexios said, gently clapping him on the good shoulder. “But I feel like we had greater problems in Amphipolis, before and after the battle...” His smile wavered a little. “How are you?”

“Well enough that I wish I wouldn’t always have to speak of it,” Brasidas answered honestly, though he could see the concern in Alexios’ eyes was true and understood that of all people, he would be the one to feel most responsible, not only because of their friendship, which had grown for so many years now. It was Alexios’ sister who had put Brasidas in this position, but he did not hold a grudge. Every soldier was aware of the risk they took when they joined a battle; Brasidas’ luck had simply run out. “I will not fight anymore, but – I’m sure there must be something else for me to do,” he added.

He would just have to figure out what that was.

Alexios gave him a forceful nod. “I’ll be around now for a good while, waiting on some messages back on a few Cult leads. You need anything, I’m here.”

“Don’t worry. Stentor has been very accommodating these past few weeks. I think my house should be fit for an invalid now.”

His friendship with Stentor had not been as explosive as that with Alexios and they had never been quite as close, but he’d taken the man under his wing back in the day, as Nikolaos had resisted the idea of him having an _erastes_ and thus left Stentor rather bereft of connections other than his own by the time he turned twenty and had to be inducted into a _syssitia_. Brasidas had thought someone but his father should show Stentor some attention, as he’d been impressed by his prowess and intelligence, but figured that perhaps Nikolaos was holding him a bit too close. It never paid to hang tightly to anyone’s skirts, even if the man was as great as the Wolf. Because of that, he’d petitioned Nikolaos to have Stentor brought into his _syssitios_ so that he could learn to conduct himself around other older men without Nikolaos’ shadow looming over him and Stentor, much as he was devoted to his father, had always been grateful for this gesture. The daily suppers when they were both at Sparta had done the rest in acquainting them to each other and establishing an easy, abiding affection.

“You’re not an invalid,” Alexios protested, frowning.

“It was a jest,” Brasidas answered, brushing away the fact that often he did not feel like it was, especially now that he couldn’t lift his hand above the height of his shoulder and the old injury from Pylos was acting up again, making him limp and stumble. “Take your man home and enjoy some time alone. You do owe me the tale of how you got together, though.”

“Nonsense. I only just came and you’re going to kick me out again?” Alexios fell down on a kitchen chair. “I expect to hear all the latest gossip of the city from you. I’ll have to start growing into a real Spartan someday, after all.”

He flashed him his bright grin and, as usual, Brasidas could not resist it. With a smile, he took a seat at the table opposite Alexios.

-

It turned out that Alexios was no less attentive than his lover to Brasidas and for that, it bothered him that he could present him with just as little elation as he had Stentor. It had not escaped Brasidas that he had been bad company as of late. His doubts as to his own position in Sparta once he had somewhat recovered beset him every moment and a mind that had been bent to the fight since he was old enough to think was not so easily taken from the battlefield, even if in recent times bloodshed and violence had become only necessity to him. Both men visited him frequently, not just to help but also to talk or provide entertainment with a game of dice or some other diversion, and he admired their resilience in the face of his less than stellar conduct. Most of his patience for pretending he was fine was spent on visitors who knew him less well, leaving Alexios and Stentor only with an often brooding and taciturn version of himself.

Their friendship, at least, was still something he enjoyed even as he could not clear his mind of dark clouds. Alexios was as personable and charming as usual in his own rough-edged way, always quick with a story or a drink at hand and obvious in his fondness. Stentor was more reserved, as he’d always been, but still spent hours talking battle strategy and politics with Brasidas, winning and losing potential engagements and popular votes, eagerly soaking up his advice, which was quite gratifying to Brasidas’ ego; when Alexios joined in, the three of them could think up whole battles. Stentor was also the one who always kept an eye on the servants, the food stock, and when the washing had to be done as well as other small practical matters around the house that Brasidas admitted he lost track of while he spent so much of his time resting in bed to recuperate that the days started running together. Alexios was more for the flourishes, bringing gifts for Brasidas – exotic foods, scrolls to while away the time –, leaving fresh achillea and peony in his room so the stagnant summer air would not be stifling.

One sweltering hot evening, Brasidas, Alexios and Stentor sat out in the courtyard of Brasidas’ house, the only place where the weather was halfway bearable. The walnut tree, tall enough to spread its branches over the red-tiled roof, granted them a little shade and since the house only had three wings, the wind blew in from the open front, also leaving the view open onto the sparse sprawl of other homes down the sloping hill. Poppies grew at the edges of the courtyard like blood splatters in the bushels of grass. Brasidas took a gulp of the deep red wine, which was sweet as honey and yet heady enough to burn in the back of his throat.

“Where did you find this?” he asked Alexios, who sat sprawled in a fork between the thick roots of the walnut tree.

“It’s from Chios. I got it a few months back. A merchant claimed he’d lost a crate after already being paid and refused to hand back the difference to his buyer,” Alexios said, glancing at the painted amphora by his side. “He lost it in his basement, of course. I brought back the full shipment and took a couple of amphorae as payment.”

“That reminds me of Krete,” Brasidas said, smiling.

Alexios frowned for a second before his face lit up with understanding. He laughed. “We gave that merchant quite a fright. I think he had to change his undergarments after.”

“To his credit, he confessed to skimping people on the olives _very_ quickly with an angry mercenary and Spartan general in his face,” Brasidas answered, smiling at the memory. “I really don’t think he knew anything of the assassins hiding in his warehouse.”

Alexios nodded his head in agreement, still grinning.

“I didn’t know you’d met in Crete,” Stentor said, from his spot by Brasidas’ side on the long stone bench.

“In many places, actually,” Brasidas said with a nod. “Whenever I could get my hands on Alexios, I’d take no other mercenary.”

“And me no other job,” Alexios proclaimed.

Stentor raised a brow. “Now I understand why Alexios wrote me all these letters fretting about you on his way here, even knowing I could not answer since he was travelling.”

“Really?” Brasidas asked. “He seemed so casual in his letters to _me_…”

Alexios narrowed his eyes at Stentor, who only gave a toothy grin.

“Well, I wasn’t aware how much you looked up to Brasidas. I always figured Nikolaos was the one man who impressed you, but you’ve been so appreciative of his attention, the way you moon over him at home,” Alexios answered innocently.

Stentor’s cheeks gained a little colour as he scowled at Alexios.

Brasidas had to laugh. It was not difficult to see, even with their history, how they had found their way into each other’s arms. The frequent bickering accentuated only the gentle touches and looks he caught between them. Both men struck him as the sort to get bored without a little push-back, anyway, and that was a feeling he understood well. It was perhaps one of the reasons he had found himself smitten with one or the other over the years. Stentor’s steadfastness, diligence fiery temper, and eagerness had always been attractive, and all rare moments when he allowed a softer side of his nature to show were precious. Alexios with his godlike powers and all too human kindness was an undeniable force, like a storm on open sea, that left none untouched that it passed by and was always irresistible. Those thoughts did perhaps add a slightly melancholy touch to seeing them now squabbling as lovers did, but he still found watching them a good way to lighten his mood. They were a well-matched couple.

“I’m lucky to have such affectionate friends,” he said, taking another sip from his wine.

-

Brasidas very much enjoyed the company of Alexios and Stentor. However, as the days drew on now, he found that their behaviour towards him had shifted ever so slightly. It was not that they were any less helpful or friendly than before – perhaps the opposite.

One time, he met Stentor at the door to find him smiling at him.

“You cut your beard.” Stentor cocked his head as he regarded him and Brasidas reminded himself that he was too old to preen even under the approving look of a very handsome and likeable man.

“I was starting to look like an old Athenian philosopher,” Brasidas admitted, running his hand over the now shorter curls. “I asked my servant to take care of it.”

“It looks very good on you. Alexios refuses to grow a beard or shave his stubble off,” Stentor said with a sigh.

“Now, Stentor, don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it. I have seen you look at him,” Brasidas teased. “It seems you have a bit of a taste for men who aren’t quite as Spartan as we are.”

“You understand his advantages, then,” Stentor said, possibly more fondly than he realised. “But I do very much enjoy the look and company of some of my fellow Spartans, too.” He held Brasidas’ gaze for a moment before he leaned down to pick up the dates he had carried in from the market.

“Should I put these in the kitchen?” he asked, before Brasidas had a chance to respond.

Brasidas agreed and set the odd conversation aside in his mind, thinking perhaps he had imagined it the way Stentor’s eye bore into his.

A couple of days later, Akibos, one of the Ephors, almost ran into Alexios on his way out of Brasidas’ courtyard. 

“The rulers of Sparta can’t get enough of you,” Alexios pointed out, pulling his old Kephallonian farm horse to a stop, that strange steed which somehow always kept up with even the most thoroughbred Spartan war animals. “You’ll never have a quiet minute if you stay here.”

“Perhaps they are just being kind to include an old general in their speculations,” Brasidas said with a pale smile.

“Don’t be stupid,” Alexios answered forcefully. “They’re lucky to have you around. As are the rest of us.”

He winked at him as he drove his heels into Phoibos’ sides.

A few days later, Brasidas found himself in front of the house once more, having gotten tired of the long hours at bedrest prescribed to him, despite the fact that the wounds still ached at times. With him was Stentor, listening intently to all he said.

“You’re too heavy on the front foot. You risk losing balance. Angle the shield up and push with your shoulder first.”

Brasidas grabbed Stentor by the elbow and tugged his shield arm back a little. Since Stentor had mentioned some time ago that he wished to have someone look over his basics again, after he’d done the same for the boys of the _agoge_, Brasidas had decided to be his teacher for the day. With Brasidas’ dusty hoplite shield strapped to his arm and only dressed in a chiton, Stentor was hardly fit for battle, but his stern expression showed he was nothing less than completely serious about his training.

“Keep the line of your back straight.”

He placed a flat hand between Stentor’s shoulderblades to make him stand.

“Leaving me out of the fun, you two?”

Brasidas turned to see Alexios step up from the road.

“I’m teaching your brother. Would you like to join us? I’m sure there must be another _aspis_ around somewhere,” Brasidas called to him.

“Thanks, but you Spartans are a little too rigid for me. I think I’ll just watch you handle Stentor,” Alexios said with a broad smile as he fell down on the stone bench against the wall. “I’ve always wanted that chance.”

The tone Alexios had picked was teasing, but not in the playful way it usually sounded when he was trying to goad someone on. There was an almost expectant hint that Brasidas could not place, but which rubbed up against other memories of compliments from his friends, smiles and touches, comments he hadn’t figured to have meaning.

Brasidas lifted his hand from Stentor’s back and wondered if he was imagining things.

-

It was Alexios who he took aside in the end, since he was the one who always joked so much that Brasidas figured it might be possible that he’d simply misunderstood him, whereas Stentor’s direct ways left very little room for error; just last evening he’d plainly said that Brasidas’ bed looked comfortable enough that he’d like to spend a night there, and there weren’t many ways to take that, even if it had been in response to Brasidas thanking him for fetching new pillows.

He stopped Alexios at the door one morning after the mercenary had dropped in briefly on his way west of Sparta to deal with some bandits.

“What is it?”

“I may be going mad from being stuck inside, so don’t take this too hard,” Brasidas said, after a moment’s thought, “but I think your man has been trying to get into my good graces.”

“Yes,” Alexios said, unfazed, “I noticed. He’s pretty direct, no? But I always liked that. He lets you know what he wants.”

Brasidas was quiet with surprise for a moment as his friend smiled at him.

“Is that something you two do?” he asked, attempting to sound casual as the guilty, half-imagined pictures their enticing words had called up suddenly seemed to slam to the forefront of his mind.

“No. We usually keep to ourselves. Neither of us shares easily. However, with you, it’s different.” Alexios inclined his head. “But if you’d rather we stop, we’ll step back, of course.”

Brasidas glanced at Alexios smiling at him, only his beautiful honey-coloured eyes and the tension in his shoulders betraying his anticipation. Perhaps it would have been wise to agree. If, in the end, he got tangled into a brief adventure, the fact that Stentor and Alexios would still be together and he would be alone would only hurt in a way that it yet did not.

But Brasidas had never claimed to be immune to temptation or a wholly reasonable man.

“Why? Giving up is not the Spartan way,” Brasidas told him brashly.

Alexios showed his teeth in a grin.

-

“You absolutely did not fight the Kalydonian Boar _or_ the Hind of Keryneia. You’re boasting about some overgrown woodland creatures!”

“Fine, when I go to take the Nemean Lion, you’ll come with me. Just don’t complain if it takes a bite out of you,” Alexios answered, gesturing at Stentor with the date he was holding in his hand before popping it in his mouth. “We’ll bring Brasidas its fangs so he also knows of my heroic deeds.”

“I’m not as doubtful as Stentor,” Brasidas said, sprawling back against the pillows he’d bunched in his back to sit comfortably on the ground with his friends.

“See? Brasidas trusts me, but my own lover can’t. What is that cruelty?”

Stentor rolled his eyes at Alexios and grabbed his chin to place a quick kiss on his mouth. “You poor boy.”

“‘Boy’? You’re _my_ little brother, remember?”

Alexios crowded Stentor further into the corner where he’d been sitting, wrapping his arm around his neck so that he had nowhere to turn when Alexios closed in and forced his head back onto the crook of his elbow as he kissed him. Brasidas would have politely averted his eyes to reach for more wine, but that was when Alexios angled Stentor’s and his own face into the light of the torch and tipped his head just enough so that he could glance at Brasidas from the corner of his eyes. Stentor pulled at Alexios’ lower lip with his teeth until Alexios gently knocked their foreheads together, using the moment of surprise to thrust his tongue between Stentor’s lips. Stentor, too, gave Brasidas a half-lidded look before he opened his mouth wider, allowing for a sloppy kiss that was easy to spectate from where Brasidas sat opposite them.

If that wasn’t an invitation to watch, Brasidas didn’t know one. He leaned back, feeling heat pooling in his stomach as Stentor and Alexios bit and licked at each other, pecks that always parted again to give Brasidas a look at their faces. Stentor ran his hand up under the fur skirt of the hunter’s armour that Alexios was wearing, possessively grabbing his thigh and pulling him closer, fingers digging into the thick muscle. He allowed Alexios to bend his head even further back to lick a long stripe along his throat, frowning as Alexios pressed his teeth into the thin skin, fingers digging into his thigh, but no sound of protest leaving his mouth, only a sharp exhale. Brasidas reached between his legs to discreetly adjust himself in his underclothes.

“Want a taste?” Alexios asked, glancing at him.

“Of you both,” Brasidas said lowly.

Stentor moved his hands up to Alexios’ hips and pushed him off of him. Alexios allowed himself to be moved by him, almost flung into Brasidas’ lap. However, he grabbed Stentor by the arm, pulling him closer just as he smiled at Brasidas and kissed him.

The sweet taste of fresh figs and dried dates was in Alexios’ mouth as he opened it for him. A flutter in his stomach reminded Brasidas uncomfortably how much he’d wanted this, how likely he was not going to get it again, but he smothered the feeling, determined to enjoy the moment. These last three years, he’d been twice taught how easily one could depart from this world. He’d take all its enjoyments first and Alexios and Stentor were certainly one of the greatest on offer.

Stentor leaned to his left, head bowed to kiss the numb, freshly scarred skin of his shoulder. Brasidas put one arm around Alexios’ shoulders and the other, which would not rise as high as he wished nor hold as tight as he wanted, around Stentor’s hips. Despite his lacking grip, Stentor leaned into him, warm and willing, as Alexios dipped his tongue between Brasidas’ lips. Someone’s hands, he couldn’t for sure say whose, were working on the chiton he was wearing, bunching it up to his chest to greedily touch his stomach.

Alexios leaned back a little to allow Stentor to take his place. Where Alexios’ kiss had been playful, all quick flicks of the tongue and little nips of his teeth, Stentor kissed deeply and with purpose. It amused Brasidas to find their natures so reflected in their style, made him curious what he’d learn about them when their clothes were off. Stentor broke the kiss quicker to lean down to his neck, his hands working their way over Brasidas’ body where Alexios’ fingers were already present, teasing and gentle.

For all his long years and not insignificant number of partners, Brasidas had never shared such a moment with two men, so he found himself a little confused where to start with pleasing them both at once. He ran his hand up Alexios’ back to card through the long hair he’d so often idly thought to bury his fingers in and curiously explored Stentor’s perfectly sculpted chest, steeled and formed by a life of training, marred or rather decorated with scars by his time on the battlefield.

As Alexios swooped in for another kiss, distracting him for a moment, Stentor moved downwards. Brasidas lifted his hips as he felt him tugging at his underclothes, allowing for them to be slid off.

Alexios, however, would not be outdone. Moving backwards and straddling Brasidas’ stretched-out leg, he ducked his head, joining Stentor, who was fisting Brasidas’ cock while breathing warm air against the skin. When Alexios came closer, he kissed him, open-mouthed, and so close that the head of Brasidas’ cock was caught in the press of their lips and tangle of their tongues. Brasidas didn’t think he could remember ever seeing something so debauched, or be as glad to be in the middle of it.

Alexios broke the kiss first, licked along the length of his cock until he met Stentor’s fingers and gently worried at one of them with his teeth before he leaned back, a grin on his face.

“I want to taste you, but I’ll leave you to Stentor for now. I swear, I’ve never had a man swallow me like he does, you have to feel it.”

“Alexios!” Stentor hissed, lifting his head.

“What?” Alexios asked, surprised.

Stentor frowned at him and Brasidas had to smile. It made sense that, in many ways, Alexios was more free than the two of them and Brasidas had always found that lack of inhibitions very attractive. He was Spartan, by blood and by choice, but he’d not been raised to the creed that even Brasidas had had to work long to unshackle himself from even in parts.

“From my experience, Spartan men don’t like it when you praise them for acts for which they must kneel or bow or give themselves,” Brasidas explained, amused by the expression on Alexios’ face as he glanced at his other lover, who stared petulantly at the wall. Had Stentor really not had that conversation with him? But of course he would not. Stentor was hard-headed and, though hardly a young man by this point, a dozen years younger than Brasidas. There were plainly things he still had to unlearn.

“Can’t take a compliment for pride?” Alexios said, nudging Stentor in the back.

Stentor scowled.

“We are not taught to enjoy these things so much that we get good,” Brasidas clarified, touching Stentor’s jaw. “Which makes little sense, as there is certainly no shame in pleasing the men we lay with, is there, Stentor?”

Stentor glowered at him, too, though more sullen now. Then, with a proud shake of his head, he freed himself of Brasidas’ hand and sank down between his legs again, sucking his cock into his mouth. Though he’d protested his skill, there was no resistance, barely a hitch as he thrust his head down and allowed Brasidas to slide into his throat. His gag reflex wasn’t missing, as Brasidas felt his throat contract around him as Stentor gagged, which sent a series of thunders through his already heated blood.

“Told you,” Alexios said, and Brasidas appreciated the kiss he gave him as he leaned in, but what had him almost thrusting deep into Stentor’s mouth in a sudden surge of lust was simply the way Alexios’ hand settled on Stentor’s head, thumb gently brushing the back of his neck. The gesture was praise, possessiveness, affection all in one and Stentor did not buck against it even as Alexios spread his fingers and pushed him firmly down onto Brasidas’ cock.

To finally do more than gawk at the handsome men who treated him so well, Brasidas reached between Alexios’ legs just as he pushed his tongue into the man’s mouth. Alexios’ cock was thick and long with a pretty curve, already damp with precome.

Alexios moved back an inch to lift two fingers to Brasidas’ mouth and pulled playfully at his lower lip before he pushed them in. Brasidas took the silent command to suck, much too distracted to wonder what Alexios planned, thinking only in the moment. When Brasidas had finished his work to his satisfaction, Alexios brushed up the skirt of Stentor’s chiton and dragged the wet fingers between his cheeks. Brasidas’ saw the tip of his forefinger push into him.

Stentor tore his head back with a wet pop and the rush of air around his cock after being buried in the tight heat of Stentor’s throat made Brasidas hiss. Stentor’s own gasp for air was stuttering and Brasidas could not but laugh at how startled he looked. He gentled his hand over Stentor’s square jaw.

“You always seem so entranced,” Alexios mocked, as Stentor looked at him. “Figured I’d test how far it goes.”

“I’m putting that weird stone cock your Athenian friend gave you in you when we get home and let you figure out how easy it’d be to handle while you suck me off,” Stentor gave back smirking.

Brasidas raised a brow at Alexios, who just shrugged. “You meet all sorts travelling,” he said innocently, twisting his finger inside Stentor. Tension rippled through his muscular back as Stentor tried to accommodate it, brushing his lips over Brasidas’ cock again.

“I wonder,” Brasidas said, after hesitating a moment, “having seen his singular focus on the battlefield, I’m sure Stentor could continue this while allowing a man to take his pleasure with him. Don’t you think so?”

Brasidas had let the two do what they wished and he was not certain if it was only his allotted role here to sit back and enjoy; however, from the look in Alexios’ eyes, he didn’t think he’d overstepped his boundaries yet. Alexios seemed delighted with the idea.

Brasidas shifted his gaze down to Stentor to see if he was equally tempted. Stentor drew his brows together as he lapped softly at the head of Brasidas’ cock.

“If I have to breathe deeper, it will be difficult.”

“You don’t have to choke on it to make it good. I can already feel you don’t need such tricks to make a man’s head spin.”

“I think there’s no way but to try it,” Alexios claimed.

He got to his feet after dragging his hand across Brasidas’ broad shoulders and grabbed a small earthen bottle of olive oil from the dining table. After apparently being unable to resist the temptation to lean down and peck Brasidas quickly on the lips once more, he positioned himself behind Stentor and briefly put the bottle aside to kiss the small of his back, too. Then, he pulled his hard back cock out from under the chiton he wore and slicked it with oil.

“Should you not prepare him a little more?” Brasidas asked, daring to smooth his hand down Stentor’s head, making sure not to put enough pressure on him that the touch may seem like an order which he had yet no authority to give.

Stentor shook his head into his palm.

“I don’t enjoy that for a start. If Alexios needs to tease me with his fingers, he can do it after taking me.”

“It’s a lot of fun when he’s open and exhausted,” Alexios said to Brasidas, then flicked his gaze down. “Though I’m worried I will hurt you sometimes.”

“You’re not that big,” Stentor murmured with a sharp grin over his shoulder.

Alexios smacked his muscular ass with the flat of his hand as he laughed. Stentor gave a half-hearted kick backwards, smiling as Alexios caught his ankle and bent his leg upward, kissing his calf.

“You two know best,” Brasidas said, reaching out with his free hand to touch Alexios’ face and pull him in closer. All men had their preferences and Brasidas had met a couple before who found that with experience they relaxed easier and preferred taking something bigger all at once instead of several smaller digits. He was eager to learn more details about what they enjoyed in hopes of putting them to good use in the future, though as he did not know whether he was allowed here for just one night, perhaps he put himself up for disappointment with such expectations.

Alexios chased away his thought as he leaned in over Stentor’s back to kiss Brasidas as he lined himself up. Brasidas broke the kiss reluctantly, but he could not resist the temptation to watch closely as Alexios pushed into Stentor, taking care to first settle his head inside him and give Stentor a moment to adjust when he had. Alexios’ hand tangled in Brasidas’ curly hair, smile wide and wild.

“Looks good, huh?” he murmured, dropping his hand from the base of his cock to edge his thumb against the rim of Stentor’s entrance, teasing the light pink flesh. “You ever watch a man take another before?”

Brasidas snorted.

“A few times in the tents and barracks. You have less of a choice if you lie next to them in bed. But they were not as handsome as you two, nor let me have such a good view...”

Alexios grinned. “And what a waste of them not to invite you.”

While he worked his way into Stentor’s body with small, shallow thrusts, Stentor was still busying himself with Brasidas’ cock, sucking it deep into his mouth. It seemed that he’d taken Brasidas’ comment on his focus as a challenge and though he breathed harshly through his nose, he did now slack in swallowing him down once more.

Brasidas felt a full-body shiver ran through him. At this rate, with Stentor working tirelessly and the image of Alexios’ fat cock stretching him wide and Alexios’ mouth at Brasidas’ throat again, he was not going to last an impressive amount of time. It had been long, too. His bitterness and sorrow had not put him in the right mood to take himself in hand, much less invite someone else to do so. The sudden flood of sensation had his hips hitch, pushing up into Stentor’s tight throat.

“My apologies,” he muttered.

“He can take it,” Alexios said breathlessly. “Don’t hold back.”

Stentor only continued his efforts, which Brasidas figured was as much of an agreement. The easy understanding between them was marvellous to behold, knowing that Stentor would allow Alexios to set his limits.

Perhaps he should have dragged it out, for he knew he could not contain himself anymore should he follow Alexios’ advice, but the temptation was once again too great. He held Stentor’s head steady, hand firm but not restricting, teasing his fingers through Stentor’s short strands. Alexios was watching him, licking his lips. Brasidas locked eyes with him as he let go and allowed himself to use Stentor’s mouth as he pleased. It would have been enough if Stentor had simply held still and let him do so, but he pressed his tongue up against his cock, pushed it out past his plush lips to touch more of him, the picture he made bordering on obscene as a thread of saliva dripped over his chin. His body was rocked by Alexios’ quick thrusts, moved into Brasidas, and Alexios’ eyes were wide open, staring hungrily at the picture before him, his fingers still tight in the back of Brasidas’ neck, and it all became too much in one perfect moment. Brasidas groaned as he spilled himself down Stentor’s throat with a few last quick thrusts.

Stentor pulled back coughing. Brasidas felt a twinge of guilt tempered by the fact that the image of Stentor with red-cheeks and seed spilling out of his mouth was quite the sight.

“It’s polite to warn a man,” Alexios teased.

“I am sorry,” Brasidas said, gathering some of the seed on Stentor’s face with his thumb. “You two overwhelm me.”

“No harm done. Don’t let Alexios pretend he’s never done the same,” Stentor said, licking his lips, and Brasidas thought if he were twenty years younger he’d already be hard again.

“Big talk from the man who came still fully dressed over my hand the first time we were together.”

Stentor bared his teeth at Alexios over his shoulder like an angry dog, but his expression tightened into grudging pleasure when Alexios rocked back into him, hands tight on his waist.

Brasidas shifted closer and used his good arm to push with gentle urgency against Stentor’s shoulder. When he sat up some, Alexios moving to follow, Brasidas pulled Stentor close and kissed him, licking himself off his lips. Stentor grabbed on to him with desperate urgency, moaning low in the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” Alexios muttered, and Brasidas could feel him rocking into Stentor with such fervour that it pushed Stentor into his chest. He leaned back against the wall behind him for some purchase that his recovering body could not truly give yet and smiled at Alexios after he’d parted from Stentor, wrapping his good arm around both of them so that his hand rested on Alexios’ round backside.

“Your lover did well, but I am spent. I hope you can reward him for me,” he said.

“Gladly.”

Alexios rutted into Stentor again, who dropped his head on Brasidas’ shoulder. Whether he was taken by the feeling or perhaps a little ashamed to look a general who had trained him at the _agoge_ in the eyes while he was being fucked, Brasidas allowed him that moment to be flustered. With his weaker hand he could at least still hold on tight enough to grasp Stentor’s cock and give him a few firm strokes while his other hand dug crescent-shaped marks into Alexios’ ass.

“As if Stentor doesn’t leave enough bruises,” Alexios panted. His face was damp with sweat, long strands sticking to his shoulders and neck.

Brasidas laughed.

“That’s what you get with Spartan men! You do seem to favour them.”

“No fire in anyone else quite like it.”

Alexios leaned past Stentor’s shoulder and caught Brasidas in a kiss just as his thrusts, which Brasidas felt through Stentor’s body, grew harder and less controlled. Between them, Stentor tensed and then came with a strangled gasp into Brasidas’ skin. Brasidas stroked his softening cock until Stentor shivered before he moved his damp hand to Alexios’ hips, too, holding them as Alexios hammered into Stentor and then spent himself with a groan stifled by Brasidas’ tongue.

They all sat in silence for a while, a tangle of warm limbs. Stentor backed off Brasidas a little, shifting not to put pressure on any healing wound. Alexios nosed against Stentor’s neck, took Brasidas’ hand. 

Brasidas allowed his eyes to slide shut. It seemed almost sensible to let fatigue take over; it would barely surprise him to wake up alone in an empty house, realising it had all been a dream.

-

When Brasidas actually woke, he was in Alexios’ arms and caught a glimpse of Stentor carrying a large earthen bowl of water and placing it on the ground. He’d evidently already washed himself and put on a simple woollen tunic with a red border that Brasidas recognised as one of his own.

“My chiton was stained,” he said, noticing Brasidas looking at him. “I will return this to you soon.”

“You are welcome to wear all my clothes if they look so becoming on you.”

He felt a huff of breath against his chest.

“Who knew you were such a charmer?” Alexios asked, lifting his eyes. “Why did I never get such compliments?”

“You never told me you wanted them. I have quite a few nice words for you, too,” Brasidas answered, tone lighter than his mood was.

He pulled himself carefully out of Alexios’ grip to sit and wash his hands and face in the clear, cold water, then used one of his blankets to take care of the rest of him. Alexios joined him while Stentor perched on the a chair, looking nervously alert. They had slept into the evening, if the golden sun falling through the doorway was any indication.

“How did I come to this, then?” Brasidas asked, finally.

It would be more comfortable to let them go and wish in silence that he could have this again when the mood struck them. He’d have hope, then. However, Brasidas had never been for one for comfortable solutions.

Alexios leaned back where he sat.

“We were on our way back home one day. I was talking of you and perhaps I let my enthusiasm run away with me.” He grinned wryly. “Stentor asked me if I had ever thought of you as more than a friend. I admitted I used to, though I didn’t think it was wise. Stentor guards his lovers quite jealously, you must know.”

Stentor scoffed. “As do you.”

“I don’t get _as_ bad as you,” Alexios claimed.

Brasidas found himself wrestling with the fact that perhaps he could have had Alexios, had he been bolder. It was a bittersweet thought. Stentor matched him well and Brasidas did not wish to steal Alexios away, but he wanted him still – and wanted Stentor, too.

“Anyway, no snapping and shouting this time. He just told me he used to have a crush on you when he was just eighteen, nineteen, stumbling behind you and our father on his first battlefields.”

“I did not _stumble_ behind anyone,” Stentor interjected sourly.

“Ah, but you were in love.”

The lack of answer was as much as one. Brasidas found himself further baffled. Had he really been so negligent in going after men he wanted and could have had?

“I said to Alexios that I thought you liked him exceedingly, so if one of us won out, it was him. Alexios claimed that he figured you enjoyed my presence more than a friend’s. He made a jest that perhaps we should both try to seduce you at once to see if you preferred either one of us, or both.” Stentor hesitated. “The thought got stuck in my head.”

“And so you decided to come here with sweet words making me feel horribly guilty for wishing myself with my friends, who were so attached to each other?” Brasidas asked, levelling a stern gaze on both of them.

Alexios laughed. “More or less, yes. But you can’t say it ended badly for you.”

“I had my fun and I did enjoy it, but what else is there to your plan?” Brasidas asked, looking between them.

“That depends on you, does it not?” Stentor answered.

“We don’t want to break what we have,” Alexios added, “but maybe we wouldn’t. It’s not like we didn’t want to be with each other even though we always liked you, too.”

The offer was blurred at the edges, a tentative approach, but Brasidas understood why. It was unusual: They wished not to part nor to let go of him.

“I would be your third,” he said slowly.

“Some men have two wives,” Stentor answered, crossing his arms over his chest. “And some Spartan wives have two men. It’s not unheard of.”

“It is rarer for those men and wives to be with each other as well, though it sounds better than a competition to me,” Brasidas allowed.

“And to me. I don’t want to choose or be chosen – or be thrown out!” Alexios grinned, though Brasidas could see that under his bustle, he was nervous.

Brasidas took him by the elbow and pulled him in.

“I am too old and had too many close shaves with death to shy away from something for convention.” He glanced at Stentor. “You were both right thinking I had an interest, though it speaks for how much you like each other that you only saw how I admired your lover, and I wouldn’t have lifted a finger without an invitation. But if I can have you both, I would be foolish to decline.”

Alexios kissed him, long and heartfelt. By the time they had finished, Stentor had finally joined them on the ground. Brasidas dragged him down for a kiss as well and took them both in his arms. The gods had apparently decided he should have a gift.

-

All his problems were not cured by the addition of Stentor and Alexios as his lovers, but Brasidas would have had to lie to say he did not draw strength from their affection, even more than he had from their presence before. For one, it was harder to see himself as a useless soldier past his prime with a Spartan champion and mighty polemarch playfully grasping for his attention and laying entangled with him in the mornings, apparently as happy as they could be. For another, their enthusiasm and drive were yet more evident now that they were around so often and Brasidas felt a part of them. It made him itch to do something to hear Alexios speak of his missions when he returned and see him puzzling over clues to Cultists, and Stentor had evidently grown into the leader that Nikolaos had always hoped for, since he spoke with wisdom and sense on strategies for future battles and handled the deployment of troops.

So, finally, Brasidas dragged himself to his feet and decided he had spent enough time dejected. He had a life still to live, even if it was not on a battlefield.

When he returned that evening, five hours after he had walked out the door, Brasidas felt like he had a sixteen hour marsh behind him, but also satisfied as one would be have after enduring such an exertion, too. In his _andron_, he found Stentor and Alexios already seated, looking at him in surprise when he entered.

“Now don’t stare,” Brasidas said. “I was always going to have to leave my bed eventually.”

“Pity. We did quite like having access to you there whenever we wanted,” Alexios gave back easily.

Brasidas had to grin.

“Did you go to the public assembly? I thought it ended hours ago,” Stentor said.

Brasidas nodded. Alexios looked mildly confused. He had never taken to the political pulse of Sparta like Brasidas and Stentor, who had grown up here.

“The Gerousia asked me to stay and advise them on a matter they wished to bring to the Ephors.” He sat down with a grimace. Everything ached, but it had been worth it.

“You shouldn’t push yourself too far yet,” Alexios cautioned.

“Maybe I should a bit. I live a life of luxury with you two,” Brasidas gave back, reaching down to unlace his sandals. “Sparta may still have need of me for a little bit. I’m not going to hide away.”

The look of pride in Stentor’s eyes was well worth whatever exhaustion he felt; and though Alexios seemed a little more apprehensive, he nodded his head in understanding.

“Would be a shame to have you stuck here forever. For everyone but us, at least.”

Stentor got to his feet. “The servant went home already. I’ll fetch us some wine.”

Brasidas pushed his sandals away and spread comfortably out against the pillows piled in a corner. Alexios laid down with his head in Brasidas’ lap, smiling up at him.

“Are they bearable, the Gerousia?”

“I don’t mind politics as much as most Spartans. I always liked to have a say about where and what I fought, too.”

Alexios nodded.

“Stentor is very pleased, I’m sure.” He raised his voice a little so Stentor, who had just walked in, caught it. “He mentioned he would really like to take you along as an advisor on his next campaign.”

“For charitable purposes?” Brasidas asked with a quirk to his lips.

“Certainly not,” Stentor said, placing their cups down. “I’m expected to lead the armies of Sparta. I could use a general of your standing.”

“Don’t think it’s a compliment he makes lightly. He’s taken me on campaigns and he wouldn’t take advice from me if I told him to pull a spear from his shoulder when it pins him to the ground,” Alexios said, rolling his eyes.

Stentor pointedly only filled two cups with wine before handing one to Brasidas and taking a swig of his own, but Alexios yanked him down in a kiss to lick the sweet liquid from his lips. Brasidas laughed.

“But you will take him as a mercenary?” he asked, trailing his hand down Stentor’s back.

“Because he gets to order me around,” Alexios claimed.

“He’s useful for that sometimes,” Stentor mocked

“I’m the best you have, polemarch.”

The three of them out there together, bringing victory to Sparta – yes, Brasidas quite enjoyed the thought of that. For now, however, Brasidas tugged Stentor down into his lap as well, so his lovers laid with their heads on his thighs, one stretched out to each side of him. This was already as much as he could wish for.


End file.
